


Resonance

by hellkitty



Category: RoboCop (2014), RoboCop - All Media Types
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 21:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1240651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellkitty/pseuds/hellkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I. Uh. Yeah. I have no excuse for this. What do you even call human/cyborg porn?  It's not really xeno, so...hemixeno? semiparaphilia?  IDEK.  </p><p>Let's just say that a few years or so in the Transformers fandom has made my OTP questionably misunderstood high school science and robotporn.</p><p>Harmonic/ultrasonic stimulation; whatever you call cyborg sex, sliiiiiight dubcon, and Alex/Dennett.  </p><p>Suggested listening:  <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hfUSyoJcbxU"> Trip Like I Do - Crystal Method </a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Resonance

“What’s that?” He shouldn’t sound suspicious, but it was hard to shake. Norton had been contrite, ever since that night, when Sellars had sent OmniCorp agents to kill him, shut him down while he was out, murder him all over again.

He figured he’d earned a little wariness, and Norton had been patient enough, as though this was part of the price for the secrets he’d kept.

Norton held it up, displaying it. “Ultrasonic wand. It’s a prototype.”

Great. Another prototype. One that looked alarmingly like something that you’d find in a shop that had sticky floors and a back room labeled ‘live nude girls’.

“It’s just for maintenance. The EMs can be dunked, whole, in a solvent bath, but they lack organic parts.”

‘Lack.’ Norton was always so careful with language, making it seem that they were inferior, being fully robotic, when Alex knew they all felt his humanity was a flaw in the system.  Still, the idea of being 'dunked' in anything was a little more than he could handle. He couldn't shake the image of a doughnut and coffee. “So, that.”

“It works on a vibrational principle. This is just a transducer, vibrating at frequencies higher than human hearing.”

“It shakes dirt loose.”

“Basically, yes. Like jewelry cleaners, but without the bath.” Norton seemed pleased he was communicating. There were days Alex barely said a word beyond perfunctory answers about his functional state.

Because organic parts. Got it. Alex wasn’t even going to go into the whole ‘not jewelry’ thing.

Norton held up another device. “Small air compressor, to blow the dirt out, dry out any oil or grime.”

“You’re going to use these. Now. On me.”

“Yes. It’s been, well, this frame’s been in service for too long without maintenance. And we could simply strip the parts down, but I thought, well, it can be unsettling.”

'Unsettling' was a nice way of putting it. Alex wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to seeing what was left of him, what he was without all the cybernetic devices. 'This frame' as Norton called it. His body. However he felt about it, it gave him mobility, power, agency. “And this isn’t going to be.”

“It’ll be interesting.”

“That’s a scientist’s way of saying you have no idea.”

“No data,” Norton corrected, with a faint smile. “Until you provide it.”

Right. There was no getting out of this one.

“It won’t hurt,” Norton said, flipping the switch, the little wand giving a high, thin hum that Alex was pretty sure Norton couldn’t hear.

“So you say,” Alex muttered, but just then, Norton laid the wand against the top of the armor on his left forearm, and he felt a sudden, exquisite vibration, like a tickle that had a strange, warm tingle through it, spinning up his arm. He felt his breath catch, eyelids widening for a half-second, until he registered that Norton was watching him.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Norton repeated, this time, almost as a question. Alex shook his head: all he trusted himself to. It didn’t hurt. That was the last word he’d use to describe it. He wasn’t sure what word he would use, but yeah, not that. Not pain.

A little slice of warm air, the compressor blowing through under the upper plating. Alex felt the abdominal scaling twitch, contract, and that spinning tingle race up his arm, then through his body, like a sort of effervescent flood pouring through his circuitry, fizzing up his head like a kind of dizzying shock.

He forced his head down, to look at Norton, whose head was bowed in concentration over the arm as he worked, alternating the feathering touches of the ultrasonic prototype and the keener air, leaving the plating underneath, the wiring, feeling stripped and hypersensitized. Alex felt the tingling build within him, a strange sort of electrical heat, as Norton moved the device, pressing it into the elbow joint, his other hand finding a small armor lock, opening the black plating to reveal bright titanium silver beneath.

Alex stirred, watching, feeling his eyelids sink, drowsily, as the device moved against one of the longer support struts, one of the ‘bones’ of his forearm. And the vibration seemed to sing through his entire body, lighting up along his structural frame, from the box of his toeplating to the actuator grid under his helm cowling, as though it had lit up, incandescent, shining through the matte black of his armor. He wanted to look, almost, to see if it was visible on any of his optical scans.

A whisper of air from the compressor, like a sudden jolt from heat to cold, a shock that sent a sharp tremor through the servomotors, and he fought a gasp, air hiccupping from his lungs.

Norton looked up, his eyes watery and magnified by his glasses. “Too much?”

“…no. Continue.” The first time he ever felt even faintly grateful for the flatness of his modulated voice, but he could hear a sort of huskiness to it, a lower timbre, and he wondered if Norton could, too.

The doctor’s gaze lingered on his face for a long moment, seeing…something, before he turned back to his work, laying the compressor aside.

Alex felt himself tense—no, not tense, exactly, but go taut, alive with a sort of prickling anticipation, as the ultrasonic device neared. He could hear Norton change its pitch, rheo up the frequency, lay it along the frame strut again, and Alex arched, feeling his spinal actuators contract. It felt like a different color, washing over him. He had no way to describe it, color, light, heat, no way to process what it was, what it was doing to him: it was enough to hold on, feeling his hands, metal and skin, twitch, as though trying to clutch at something real.

He could feel something build in him, a sort of rich, restless almost liquid energy, filling parts that were normally cold and still. And he knew Norton was registering something: how could he miss the way Alex’s frame shifted on the cradle, the hands moved, helpless and mute. He couldn’t miss the sound that sang its way from Alex’s throat, either, a baritone resonance from his frame, impedance lowering the ultrasonic frequency to this tone that forced itself out like a desperate moan.

There was no cold blast of the air compressor this time, that would have razor-shredded the build of heat and frantic energy. Alex wanted it, for a moment, to return to a state he could understand, a place he could think, something he knew the word for—shock, pain, discomfort—but he didn’t want it, at the same time, the building, squirming heat the closest thing he’d felt to pleasure in as long as he could remember.  He didn't want to speculate what Norton was thinking, if he knew, if he cared, he just wanted this to continue, something selfish and needing stirring awake in some deep portion of his brain, hungry for colors he couldn't name, the press and release of some mechanical fulfillment he couldn't explain.

Norton continued, for whatever reason, laying the device against one of the actuators, the higher pitch screaming a high note of something on the verge of too much. He felt something burst behind his eyes, through his body, the HUD feed dissolving into a field of stars, like fireworks. He could feel his mouth open, giving deeper voice to a sound, like ecstasy, the building energy spilling like liquid heat, lit oxyacetylene through his wiring. Norton held  him there for a long moment, the ultrasonic wand casting wave after wave of surging pleasure through him, until Alex thought he'd run out of breath, the sound of his voice just an echo in the bare room of the lab. 

He sagged back against the cradle, never more grateful to it than now, when he wasn't sure any of his gyros would hold steady, feeling breath suck back into his lungs in long, heaving, hungry gasps, even as his head still seemed to swim, fizzy with an electron dance through the neural mesh over his brain.

A long moment of nothing, merely the exquisite, alien ebb of electrical bliss, and Alex closed his eyes against the lab, the sterile, high-key lighting. He could smell a sharp tang in the air, ozone from discharged current, coming from him, rising off him like heat shimmers.  He didn't want to look at Norton right now, see whatever might be on his face, horror, shock, embarrassment, surprise, so he kept his eyes closed, sinking into the last of the starling-swirling ebb, and after what seemed an age, he felt warm hands on his arm again, closing up the paneling with gentle hands, fastening the armor lock.  There was a soft squeak, a stool's caster rolling back, and then then a squeeze of his hand, the doctor's warm, surgeon-strong hand against his heated metal, acknowledging, accepting, apologizing, reaching out, and then the hand left, and Alex could register footsteps of Norton's oxfords and the soft rush of the laboratory door, leaving him to himself and that last froth of the first bliss he could remember.


End file.
